Bonded
by Weegie
Summary: Link and Zelda are married, but for all the wrong reasons.  Link/Zelda with the refreshing twist of lime.


The king's voice, though grizzled with age, remained as commanding as ever and left little room for arguments.

"You will marry my daughter," he said.

And Link knew why. A rumour had reached him saying that the king had it in mind to import the blood of the illustrious hero into the royal family. By way of gossiping courtiers and idle servants, the news spread like wildfire, and it had been well received and approved of, from the marketwomen to the elder and respected nobles. Many had a distaste of foreigners, and Link was a native. Even better, to many he was a Gods-given hero; a more able consort for a future queen would not be found.

It all looked good on paper. Link shifted, an uncharacteristic unease sweeping across him.

_They want you to render your services to the kingdom once more and sire an heir to the throne. I will become nothing more than a stud. _

"It is unorthodox, but this is a special case," said the king. "You are beloved of the people. I could not refuse them this thing."

Out of respect and obedience, Link made a deep bow. He was born to serve; there was no regretting a decision that was never his to begin with.

There was, however, the matter of Zelda.

He thought much about her, for he was given little time to do much else with her before the wedding. Deliberately kept apart, it pained Link not to be able to speak to her about the business. Truer friends were not to be found in any part of the kingdom, but they had never been lovers, though Link had to admit he had considered it. As they had moved from childhood to awkward adolesence, his mind might wander, and he imagined them doing things there were not so chaste.

He was not sure about Zelda. They had never discussed the topic specifically. And then there was Zelda's temper. The princess could be as kind and gentle as a lamb, but she was also imperious and demanded the respect due a king's daughter. She even had the audacity to pull rank on Link, but he always forgave her. Her charm and their friendship always won the day.

When the day came, both dutifully went forward with the union. Zelda did not protest. She also, much to Link's disappointment, refused to speak a word to him about the situation. At the altar she repeated her words and smiled to everyone. At the reception, all attempts to steal a private word were rebuffed by someone's well wishes, a question, a command to walk or stand, or Zelda's simple change of subject to something more benign.

And on the wedding night, when she was handed over to begin their work, he found her uncharacteristically cold.

She stood silent before the bed, wearing her thin white sleeping gown and a look of ultimate displeasure. Her hair fell loosely about her and he could see the outline of her breasts through the clothing. A natural desire flooded over him, but there was something else there, a fear that was foreign to him.

She climbed into bed and pulled herself under the covers and focused her gaze intently on the bed's canopy. Link looked around nervously, waiting for some kind of signal that she would give him permission to proceed.

He decided to start with a kiss.

There had been no kiss at the ceremony. Hylians didn't really do that, though perhaps that would have made this easier.

Link watched for an opening and moved in slowly. A hand on his chest stopped him quickly. Zelda, her face unchanging and cool, pulled her gown over her head and tossed it aside. As if he had needed any more encouragement, Link found himself staring at her present form, and time slowed. Snapping him from his visual reverie, Zelda spoke.

"Get on with it," she said. Her tone was noticeably quiet, but surprisingly casual for the situation. There was also a slight wave of annoyance in her voice. Link was distracted enough not to notice it.

Once more, he leaned over for a kiss and again she stopped him. Instead, she pressed herself against him and he could feel her begin to shake. He had rarely known her to be afraid of anything, and her fear—and the feeling of her bare chest against his own—became electric, traveling out of her and into him.

"We don't have to do it," he said, though his obvious arousal cursed the idea. "We can wait."

"There is no time," she said, her voice waved with fear. "Do it now, before I lose myself again."

Obediently, his form covered over hers and performed his duty as she gasped with pain. He had stopped the first time he felt her stifle a cry of discomfort, but she had urged him on, telling him not to concern himself. He looked to her and saw the pain there. With some difficulty, he continued.

As his pleasure built, his concern melted away. He watched Zelda's face and her eyes kept closed. She was not smiling, but she seemed to be enjoying it. He felt her body arch naturally into his movements, the slight moaning in her throat, and the toss of her head from side to side. He supposed she was enjoying it as best she could, and was encouraged.

When he finished, he could think of nothing else but to fall upon her, sweaty and panting. He allowed himself a stupid grin and a laugh, lost in his own pleasure. For something that had started out so awkwardly, this all felt so natural now to him.

After a moment, he could feel her shifting underneath him.

"Get off," she said, muttering into his chest.

He scrambled off quickly with a flurry of apologies. Zelda sat up and, holding the sheets to her, began fumbling around with her hands in search of something.

"What are you looking for?" Link asked stupidly.

"My gown," she said, finding it on the floor. She pulled it on quickly and jumped out of bed.

"Where are you going?" Link asked, just as stupidly as he had the first question.

No answer was forthcoming. She departed through a door and did not return that evening. Link supposed she wanted to be alone now and didn't try to follow her. For two people who had been good friends, her silence stung him. He sighed and told himself he would try and speak with her tomorrow.

When tomorrow came, he found Zelda reading outside in the courtyard with her ladies. It was a pretty spring day, the kind people wrote about in stories that ladies like these might read. Link wasn't a big reader, though Zelda had taught him how.

All the ladies gave him big, bright, knowing smiles and sweetly wished him a good morning.

"You're a late riser," Zelda said, not even bothering to lift her eyes from her book.

Link uttered a simple, "Yeah," nervously ran a hand through his golden hair, and blushed like a child. "Don't you have council today with your father?" he asked, eager to change the subject to something deadly dull.

"Since I am newly married, I am excused from council meetings for a week," she explained. "I was supposed to tell you. We're technically on vacation. Isn't that nice of my father? Now you can go riding and sit around all day with your friends in the barracks."

"We don't sit around all day," Link said with girlish indignity. One of the younger ladies stifled a laugh. "What are you doing today?"

Zelda looked at him with a blank face. She held up her book. "Reading, obviously."

"All day?"

"Yes."

"Don't you want to go riding?"

"Not particularly."

In past days, Link would have feigned begging and, laughing, Zelda would give in and they'd go off riding together. He would look silly begging his wife for anything, and he didn't need witnesses. Instead, he asked, "Can we talk?" He looked about at the ladies, their eyes locked on him. "Alone?" he added.

Zelda reluctantly ushered the ladies out. As they left, Link slunk over to her bench and sat, hunched and awkward, suspiciously watching them go.

"What is it?" Zelda asked, although she made it plain that she had little interest in what he had to say. She returned her gaze to her book.

Link had been waiting weeks to speak with her in private, and now he didn't know where to start. "Are we going to all right?" he asked slowly.

"What do you mean?"

He leaned forward onto his knees, clasping his hands together with uncertainty. "You're cross with me, I know. I don't like this situation any more than you do. I wish we could just go back to the way we were, but that's not going to happen. I'm willing to give this a go, though, to make you and everyone else happy."

He looked to Zelda, who had finally moved her attention from her book to Link, if only to appear just as cross with him as ever.

"You don't like being married to me?" she said curtly.

"Not like this!" he said defensively. "Why are you being so weird and difficult? We've known each other for years and suddenly your father came along and told me we had to get married and start having babies or else I was failing my duty to the country and all this other nonsense."

Link stopped and sighed, weighed down further by his sudden diatribe.

"It's easy for you," Zelda said quietly and with a sudden sadness. "It's always easier for men."

Link looked up, and mustered the only response he could think of.

"Huh?"

"We can't be friends any more, Link," Zelda said sadly. "We can't go back to what we had."

She stood up and left and Link said nothing to stop her. He sat and wallowed in his misery for a time only to realize how absurd it was to find heartbreak in marriage.

Link subsequently threw himself into his duty. He spent his nights with his wife, his days with his new father-in-law and with the army, and any spare time doing anything that would get his mind off the fact that he had just lost his best friend in a loveless marriage-to himself.

When fall came, and no heir had appeared, a meeting was called between the poor sire and his employer. Joining them was the royal physician with his deeply scrutinizing questions.

"When you enter her, how long does it take for your release?" the physician asked.

As the king watched on, silent with intent, Link could only rub his neck and blurt out short, stumbling answers.

"A few minutes, I suppose."

A quiet fell on the room as the men waited for a more detail.

"Seven minutes, usually," Link continued. "Maybe more."

Notes were made, some advice was given, and Link was sent back to his mission.

He found Zelda already in bed with her constant companion these days-a book.

She barely registered his arrival. He discarded his day clothing and made no effort to put on anything else in its place. Instead, he made his way over to his wife's side of the bed and stood over her.

Looking up with disinterest, she asked him what he wanted.

Calmly, he removed the book from her hands and tossed it aside as he sat down beside her.

"Link! That was a limited edition!" she said. Normally, he would have laughed at her dedicated concern at such a trivial matter, but he knew that would break the mood. Instead, he made a move for the strings of her gown.

"What are you doing?" she asked. Clearly annoyed, she grabbed his hand to stop.

He slumped his shoulders in defeat and, laughing with a sigh, anticipated an awkward exchange.

"I had a meeting today with your father," he said. "He's not entirely happy about the lack of children."

Zelda crossed her arms, her irritation plainly growing. "I know that," she said bluntly.

"There was a guy there, a physician, he said that I might be more inspired if-"

Interrupted by a sigh, Link stopped as Zelda propped herself up on her elbows.

"If you wanted to see me without my gown, you should have asked," she said. "But I don't expect to be consulted, as I surely was not invited to the meeting today."

To that, Link said nothing. Red-faced and shamed, he simply sat there, not even bothering to put his pants back on.

"I knew about it, though. I'm not as ignorant as you about these things," she spat.

That hurt. He knew he wasn't as well-read as Zelda, but she never dared to be so disrespectful of him. He bit back a retort, assuming she was still mad about…whatever it was she was mad about.

"Babies, if the Gods so bless us, will come in due time," Zelda called after him.

Link stopped and turned, leaning on the bedpost. He nodded sadly. "I know."

He went to bed unfulfilled that evening. However, he made one resolution: Link decided to take a more positive approach to the entire thing, hoping it would be contagious. The following day made Link hopeful that the situation between himself and his royal wife would be much more hot than it had been cold. In this, he was to find only disappointment.

Zelda ignored his attempts at idle talk and refused all requests to join him in any leisure activities, save those involving their bed. Eventually, she began to reject him even in that.

In his dreams, they made love until dawn. In reality, he grew restless at her constant rejection.

Eventually, as he knew it would, their cessation of intimacy reached the king, and another meeting was called. The king offered plenty of awkward advice to his son-in-law.

"My daughter has a strong will," said the king. "You must take matters in hand sometimes. She will admire you more for it. If you expect to be king at all, you will have to learn to be more decisive."

Link thought of saying something like, "'Don't you think I already tried that?" or "Have I shown you the scars she gave me when we were kids and I refused to play dolls with her?"

Instead, Link nodded.

That evening, Link found his steely wife in her own apartment, again surrounded by a handful of ladies reading and sewing. At his entrance, these ladies began a silent withdraw.

"No," said Zelda. "I did not tell you to go." At her words, the ladies halted. Her vanguard in check, Zelda looked to her husband and asked him in a bored and blunt voice what he wanted.

Link told himself to stay firm and told Zelda he wanted to speak with her. Alone.

One of the younger, unmarried ladies giggled. Zelda's face remained firm. "Very well," she said almost in a sigh. A flick of her hand shooed the ladies away, and they passed Link with sly smiles and giggled whispers.

The click of the door signaled the next step.

She stood up, leaving her book in the chair. She had chosen a sleeping gown with a very low neckline. I wondered if she had done it to tease me.

"What do you want?" Zelda asked.

Link said nothing.

Impatiently, she asked him again.

The way she moved and breathed and looked at him in just a certain way must have triggered a starter signal in his head. He swept across the room like he was falling and gathered her up so suddenly that, at first, she had nothing to say.

She had forgotten just how strong Link really was. Without the appearance of struggle, Zelda was thrown down onto her bed with a deliberate roughness. She began a standard, indignant protest, but even this was silenced with a rough and sudden kiss.

He kissed her with such a force that it negated all the other kisses that had come before. He could feel her chest heaving and her hands gripping at his shoulders. He knew this would enrage her further, but he was so taken with her now he simply did not care.

Upon releasing her from the kiss, Link was rewarded for his efforts with a slap to the cheek. With an expert archer's aim, the slap was as straight and true, as he should have expected. Some thing about it that made his desire grow further, and as she struggled against him he pinned her to the bed and whispered in her ear.

_I pleaded with her. I told her I needed her now and that I could not hold back any longer. I pressed against her so she could feel the proof and held her tight until I could feel her calming underneath me._

He considered it a small miracle that she relented that evening. Sadly, his only reward was a week more of silence.


End file.
